


Girls Like Me

by Lise



Category: Death Note
Genre: Death Note's Female Characters Deserved Better Club, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Internalized Misogyny, Kissing, Misa's a fucking mess (for really good reasons), Misa's a little tipsy, POV Female Character, internalized misogyny olympics, not sure what to do with this, seriously what, shoulda been takamane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was pretty, Misa supposed. More handsome, though, the way she held herself a peculiarly androgynous blend that Misa supposed was meant to lend her authority in spite of being female. Misa wondered if anyone had ever looked at Takada and seen her as little more than a body or a thing to be possessed, coveted, desired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because [gaius-cassius-longinus](http://gaius-cassius-longinus.tumblr.com) wanted it to. That is basically all. 
> 
> Well, not quite. Also because a) everything could use more femslash and b) a recent rewatch hit me fully in the face with how shitty Death Note is to its female characters. 
> 
> I don't think this fic fixes that (at all) but hey, at least it hopefully gives them some lives (and brains) of their own.

This was not, Misa reflected, how she had imagined living with Light. 

She’d made excuse after excuse for him, why she had to be left alone so much of the time, why he couldn’t see her, why she had to be shut up in this luxurious cage like that was all she was good for-

Misa had spent so much time feeling trapped. She was tired of it. She’d thought Light would understand that, would see her and understand…

Apparently not. 

She poured herself another glass of wine and took a sizeable swallow from it. Why not? It was nice wine, but it wasn’t like she lacked for money. Misa glanced at her phone on the counter and considered calling Light, telling him exactly what she thought, telling him how she felt, telling him if he didn’t change his behavior well he’d come home someday and-

Her shoulders slumped. She wouldn’t do it. Misa was capable of being realistic, and she knew that. She could be angry at Light all she wanted when he wasn’t there, and it just seemed to melt away when he was. Even if it didn’t, though, he wouldn’t listen. Would just respond with that “mmm” that meant he was occupied in dismissing every word out of her mouth. 

_Why did you tie yourself to him?_

Sometimes Misa wasn’t sure. 

The TV was on because she found the white noise soothing, but listening to it just reminded her of Miss Kiyomi Takada, Miss Kiyomi Takada who thought she was so much better than Misa, who thought she could snicker behind her hand and Misa wouldn’t notice, who thought-

What did it matter, though? Light probably didn’t care about her any more than he did about Misa. All he cared about was the Kira case. And L. Stupid L. 

Misa swallowed the rest of her glass and set it in the sink. She grabbed her purse and walked over to the door, remembering belatedly that she wasn’t supposed to leave. Misa opened the door anyway and gave the guard a bright smile. “Excuse me,” she said, “I know I’m not supposed to leave my room, but can I go down the hall to get myself some ice? I’m making some smoothies for this new diet that I’m trying out, and I was hoping…”

“Yeah, sure,” said the man, his eyes glazing slightly. Misa beamed at him, and leaned up to kiss his cheek for good measure. 

“Thank you!” she said, cheerfully, and bounced down the hallway until she turned a corner out of sight. 

Misa had spent a long time finding ways to get what she wanted. She knew people thought she was silly and brainless and foolish, but that also meant they didn’t watch her so closely, either. A good smile let you get away with a lot.

* * *

She hadn’t had an entirely definite destination in mind, leaving her room – or at least not consciously, mostly thinking of wanting to get out, wanting to go _somewhere._ She realized quickly enough where that was, though.

Those hulking female bodyguards were standing outside the door. Misa gave them the same smile she’d given the guard outside her own door, thinking suddenly; _we’re just the same. The two of us._

“I’m a personal friend of Miss Takada,” she said, confidently. They just stared at her, stolid and unmoving. A radio at one of their hips crackled. “ _Send her in,_ ” said Takada’s voice, sounding regal. A queen admitting a supplicant, and the comparison made Misa want to grit her teeth. 

Misa gritted her teeth through a perfunctory pat down that she was quite sure was unnecessary, and walked into the home of Takada Kiyomi, Kira’s spokeswoman. 

“Amane-san,” Kiyomi said, with perfect condescension. She was wearing a silk bathrobe, Misa noticed, sashed tightly to show off her narrow waist. Half-dressed, really, like Misa didn’t even deserve that much effort. That rankled, but not as much as Misa expected it to. “I don’t think I was expecting you.” 

“Do you have any wine?” Misa heard herself ask. “I’d like some, if you did.” 

Kiyomi arched those slender dark eyebrows. She was pretty, Misa supposed. More _handsome,_ though, the way she held herself a peculiarly androgynous blend that Misa supposed was meant to lend her authority in spite of being female. Misa wondered if anyone had ever looked at Takada and seen her as little more than a body or a thing to be possessed, coveted, desired. “All right,” she said, after a moment. “I think I have some. You can sit down, I suppose. You might have called.” 

_You think I’m such a fool,_ Misa thought. _Look at yourself. Look at us both._

She sat down on one of the plush couches and waited until Takada came back with two glasses and handed one to her, then sat on the couch opposite. “Now,” she said, with an indulgent smile. “What’s this about?” 

Misa took a swallow of wine and held it in her mouth until the bitterness overwhelmed the rest of the taste. “You’re my _friend,_ ” she said, with slight emphasis. “Can’t I just want to visit?” 

Kiyomi looked amused, like she was trying to muffle a snicker. Misa had a momentary urge to throw her glass of wine at her, but it didn’t last, ebbing out of her quickly and just leaving her with a vague dissatisfaction. “Amane-san,” she started to say, lips curling into a smile that was as condescending as her greeting had been. “I hardly think…” Misa had another sip of her wine. 

“Are you sleeping with him?” she asked bluntly. Takada blinked, and then donned the small, polite smile Misa was so familiar with, the one that simultaneously called her _stupid_ and _foolish_ and _incapable._

“And if I am?” 

Misa shrugged. Her limbs felt heavy and loose, and it occurred to her that she might be a little drunk. “I was just curious.” Takada looked satisfyingly surprised. “Do you think he loves you?” she asked, then, and Takada’s eyes narrowed. 

“That’s hardly an appropriate question,” she said primly. “In fact, this whole line of conversation is highly distasteful-”

“He doesn’t,” Misa said. She leaned back in the comfortable, plush chair. “I’m not sure Light loves anyone. I’m not sure he knows _how._ ”

“I don’t have to tolerate-”

“He’ll catch Kira,” Misa went on. “And you’ll be like me, don’t you see that? I know - I know what you must think of me. That I’m a shallow idiot, that I’m just some sort of…but I was like you once. And I gave it up because…” she trailed off. Sometimes it was hard to remember just why she had given it up, the modeling, the acting, everything. Sometimes, especially lately. 

“I don’t need to indulge this sort of absurd melodramatics,” Kiyomi said, her voice suddenly sharp. “Just because Yagami-san decided that he was bored of _you_ hardly means he will find me such dull company.”

Misa couldn’t help a snicker. “Why?” she asked. “Because you’re smart? Because you’re not an airhead like that Misa Amane? Light doesn’t care about you, he doesn’t care about me, he doesn’t care about anything but the Kira case.” She swallowed the rest of her glass of wine. “And you know that, I think. When he’s not around, you know it, but then he comes back and says just the right things and you feel so _special-_ ”

All men made promises. Light sounded so much like he meant his. 

Kiyomi set her wine glass down and started to stand. “I’m going to have my bodyguards remove you,” she said, coolly, and Misa lurched to her feet and grabbed her arm. 

“Wait,” she said, not quite breathlessly. Her head spun a little. “Kiyomi…Takada-san.” She expected the woman to pull away, shake her off. To her surprise, she didn’t. 

“Why did you bother coming here?” Takada asked, and her voice seemed quieter, though her face was turned away so Misa couldn’t see her expression. “You hardly could have thought I was going to listen to _you_ trying to – _warn me away_ from Yagami-san. The thought is absurd.”

“I’m right, though,” Misa said, with a kind of bitter triumph. “Whether you listen to me or not, I’m right. And you’ll know it eventually too.” _And it won’t matter,_ she thought but didn’t say. _You’ll know what a fool you’ve been, and know you never mattered even a little, and be a pretty bird in a cage and it won’t matter because you’ll keep waiting for him to come back, hating him and loving him because he has everything you don’t-_

“I am not you, Amane-san,” Kiyomi said, coolly, but Misa thought her voice wavered slightly, like she was trying to convince herself. 

“That’s it though,” Misa said, and something faintly vicious slid into her voice. “You are. You’re me and I’m you and that’s why you don’t like looking at me, because you know just as much as I do how quickly things can turn on you and how quickly people turn on their idols and tear them down, you know, it, I know it, and if you don’t think…”

Takada was silent as Misa trailed off. She let her fingers slide free from where they were holding Takada’s arm and fall limply back to her side. Her head felt light and fuzzy, lending everything a strange sense of unreality, like nothing was _quite_ …

The bathrobe had slipped open a little, showing just a little bit of the curve of Takada’s breasts, delicately exposed. Her skin was clear and smooth, her dark eyes striking. She was beautiful, Misa had to admit that, and suddenly she imagined being Light, imagined being Light and meeting this woman in a hotel room to discuss secrets and plans, imagined them leaning close together on a couch and then Light pushing Takada’s clothes off her shoulders, the two of them kissing fiercely, insistently, like a meeting of equals, because Light was _Light_ and could do whatever he damn well wanted even with this woman with her perfect, deliberate appearance of control-

Misa’s stomach fluttered.

_What would it be like to have that?_

She moved on impulse, stood up and pulled Kiyomi close and kissed her fumblingly, without art. The other woman fell perfectly still and Misa pulled away, fingers fluttering at her bathrobe for a moment before dropping. Takada stared at her, for the first time looking stunned. 

“…what,” she said, finally, and then seemed to shake herself. “What do you think you’re-”

Misa gave Takada a wry and bitter smile. “I don’t know,” she said, with honesty. Takada’s dark eyes were wide, luminous. Her hands adjusted her silk robe, tugged at the sash that didn’t need tightening. There was a slight blush rising in her cheeks. 

Misa felt a little warm flush of power, riding up on top of the vaguely detached feeling of being slightly drunk. She’d done that. _She’d…_

“I need you to leave,” Takada said, but she didn’t sound so sure. Misa smiled at her. 

“You know he’s just using you,” she said. “You just don’t want to admit that you _can_ be used, because you’re too good to let that happen.” 

Kiyomi’s lips pressed together. “And you?” she said, her voice a challenge. “What do you want?” Freedom. Control over my life. The ability to make my own choices again. She said nothing, and Kiyomi took a step forward. “You just _kissed_ me, Amane-san. What are you going to-”

Misa kissed her again, this time grabbed the sash at her waist and pulled Kiyomi close enough that their bodies brushed together if only slightly. For a moment the other woman was stiff, and then Misa felt her hands brushing at her shoulders, at her hair, and Misa’s other hand found the curve of Kiyomi’s waist, wandered up-

They broke apart suddenly, breathing hard and a little disheveled. Takada took a few quick steps back, one hand rising toward her face, but Misa saw her force it down. “I want you to leave,” she said, quietly, voice wavering. 

She thought about saying no. Thought about what it would be like to slip her tongue past Takada’s lips, to rub against her slender body, pressed together and what did she need Light for, what did either of them need him for-

But the thought was gone before it had really started, and Misa was left with little more than a vague sense of frustration, a faint dissatisfied ache between her legs. 

“Takada-san,” Misa said, moving toward the door. She had to go back to the cage waiting for her. 

What if Light came back, after all? 

(She had the hysterical, awful urge to laugh.)

“Amane-san,” Kiyomi said, slightly higher-pitched than was her wont. Her hands held her robe closed around her. “Good…goodnight.”

“And to you,” Misa said. She stepped out.


End file.
